


Here's to Drinks in the Dark at the End of My Road

by cumberhardhiddlesbitch



Series: The Rhombus 'Verse [24]
Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: BDSM, Belts, Butt Plugs, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Humiliation, M/M, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Post-Coital Cuddling, Spanking, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:27:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25020040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cumberhardhiddlesbitch/pseuds/cumberhardhiddlesbitch
Summary: Shannon watches Tom and Ben together.  The next day she and Tom talk about it.
Relationships: Benedict Cumberbatch/Tom Hardy, Tom Hardy/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Rhombus 'Verse [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/715134
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

Shannon walked along the edge of Hampstead Heath, taking the long way to Ben’s house. She only just recalled the way there from the high street but as she got nearer she was certain she’d found it, the grassy hill leading to one of the wooded paths a sure landmark. 

She took a good look at his street having only been there in the dark previously. She knew he’d had a balcony added on after he'd converted his flat to a two story, and according to Tom there had been quite the to-do with the Camden council, so she was braced for an anachronistic anomaly at the front of the building, but when she saw it she was relieved to note that it was only recognizable as new construction by the fact that the wood hadn't weathered to the point of matching the rest of the home.

Ben answered the door quickly when she rang the bell, barefoot but in smart trousers, white shirt sleeves rolled up past his elbows. 

"So, you found your way back," Ben said. 

"It was easy enough. They're numbered well here."

"That's new." Ben hung her coat and bag in a narrow closet, holding his arms open to her once he’d shut the door. She stepped into the hug, tilting her head up and expertly turning her face side to side as they kissed each other’s cheeks. 

"Do you want a cup of tea?"

"I'd love one, thanks.” She followed him through to the kitchen, taking in details of the house she hadn’t noticed on her first visit. On the wall in the short hallway between the kitchen and the living room there was a bright textile hung in orange and red tones, nothing representational about it, only shapes and a darker tone running through like a shadow of clouds or distant mountains. She paused for a moment to look at it, and Ben looked over his shoulder.

"I got that in South Africa, when I was there for a job." He seemed immediately uncomfortable.

"Tom told me a little about that." It seemed only right to let him know that he didn't have to tell her everything, but then she wondered, in almost the same moment, if he would be alright with Tom having told her about his being carjacked.

"It's not a secret. I just don't usually like talking about it."

She followed him into the kitchen. "Naturally. But you hung that right where you'd see it every day."

"I didn't hate South Africa, or the job, or the time I spent there, overall." He put the kettle on and took two mugs down from a cabinet. "And having that there might just be enough to remind me that I don't have to insist on things being my own way all the time."

She sat down at the table, sure that her confusion was evident on her face. "Why would that be a reminder?"

"Either Tom didn't tell you the whole story, or he left out the part that is both the most important and the least flattering to me. I had insisted that we drive at night. The people who actually lived there had told me what a poor idea it was but I'd insisted, to the point of pulling rank, and you know what happened next."

"You can't blame yourself for what happened," she said.

"No, but I can blame myself for insisting that we be in, quite literally, the wrong place at the wrong time."

She met his gaze, but didn't know what else to say.

"Anyway." Ben moved the mugs about on the worktop. "Did you want a proper cup of tea or would you prefer an herbal infusion of some kind. I've got lots." He opened a cabinet wide and revealed a neat assortment of glass jars with both bags and whole leaf blends. She got up and walked over, unable to stop herself from touching them, taking them down one by one. She held a jar in her hands that was full of dark purple flowers and black seed pods, and when she took the top off it smelled of fruit but also something warmer.

"This one, please." She set it down while he opened an infuser ball.

"One of the first things Tom told me about you was that you're very serious about tea." He sounded gently amused.

"So are you, apparently."

"I don't stint to just refer to all of it as tea. I think you were the first person I'd ever heard of to actually utter the word tisane."

"Tom really told you absolutely everything about me, then?" She sat down at the table, taking the chair she’d used the last time she was there. 

Ben chuckled as he set the infuser in her mug, selecting a plain bag of black tea for himself. "After the first day he'd met you, that week before he went to Pittsburgh, we must have talked daily, and he always wound up talking about you."

"Was that irritating?"

He didn't turn around as he answered her. "It wasn't irritating so much as intimidating. I was seeing you as a threat. How could I not, really. I'd just finally told Tom what I wanted, and here you were, all new and exciting, and female."

She had to laugh at the way he said the last, as if she could help it. He looked at her over his shoulder, smirking a little as he acknowledged how foolish that was, then turned back as the kettle whistled. "I wasn't imaginative enough to suppose that we'd actually be friends."

She felt warm and pleased, hearing him refer to her as a friend. "It was what I'd hoped for from the off, but I suppose it was easier for me, being brought in, than for you, having someone new added to something you already had. To be honest, after the first time we met all I could think of was bringing a new cat into a household and how that usually goes."

He set their mugs down on the table and sat across from her. "I've never had cats, but I can imagine."

"Just imagine us as cats. That's how it goes." She lifted the infuser by its chain, watching the purple trails from the herbs mix with the clearer water, swirling it around. She'd added no milk, so it was still far too hot to drink.

"I guess that would make Tom the cat lady."

Shannon laughed softly, then louder as she looked at Ben's face, all mischief and subtle instigation.

"No, we are not telling him that," she said, felt the tiny confidence between them wrapping them up even tighter.

"Not today, anyway," he agreed.

They drank in silence for a few moments.

"Tom should be here soon," Ben said.

"Do you want to be alone for a bit?" Shannon asked. "I can't go right from being around other people to," she paused, not sure how to put it. The words were there, but they seemed unequal to the task of describing the feeling of being with Tom and handing him control over both her body and her time.

"To being in a scene?"

"That's what I meant, but some of the words still feel strange to me. Like they should be said by other people, but not by me."

"You'll get beyond that. Though maybe I got past that rather quickly myself because I'm used to being given words to say that I'd never say in my own life."

"But you do say them in your own life."

"True." He drank, then licked his lips, thinking. "But I own all those words that seemed strange to me once. I really do, now. You will too. Besides, you don't seem to have any trouble asking for what you want."

She had to smile at that. "No, I don't have any trouble asking for what I want, but I'm only ever asking Tom." Even just the thought of him was soothing, in a way.

"And you can ask him for anything and say anything to him and he'll never make you feel ridiculous." Ben's hands were flat on the table, and she set her own hands, warm from holding her mug, over the backs of his fingers.

"Exactly."

He turned his hands over and grasped hers, lightly, for a moment. "I hope you know you can speak just as freely around me and to me, if you wish.”

"Thanks." She squeezed his hands tight before she let go.

He stood up and poured the rest of his tea down the drain, setting his mug in the sink. "You can wait for Tom in the living room, or the front room, wherever you like. He'll let himself in. I'm going up to my room." He filled a tumbler with water and paused, looking nervous for the first time. "I'll see you up there."

"See you soon. And Ben, thank you for this. You know you didn't have to say yes."

"Of course I know that." He set the glass down. "Listen. I'm sure that Tom already told you this, but you don't have to stay for the entire time that he's here, if you don't want to."

"He did tell me that. He just asked me to tell him if I was ok before I left." She felt her face get hot, flush creeping up the back of her neck, contemplating, again, what it was that they would be doing that was so different that they both felt the need to tell her that she could leave if she wanted to.

"You could safeword us, if you wanted to. If you needed to."

"He mentioned that, too." 

Ben picked his cup back up. "Do it if you're uncomfortable. If you need a break. Try not to worry about me. I can safeword myself, if I have to.”

"Have you ever safeworded?"

"Twice. The first time was just to see what it would be like, really. And once when I thought I might panic if I didn't." He paused. "It's not a contest though. Even if I never had, you still could, and you still should if you need to."

"I know it's not a contest. I just wondered. I will, if I need to."

"Alright." He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "I'll see you upstairs."

She settled herself on the sofa in the living room, not trusting herself on the white furniture of the sitting room with her tea. She felt warm and content as she curled her feet up onto the cushions of the well worn fabric.

The click of Tom's key in the lock made her heart skip, hands tingling around her mug where she held it tight, the excitement over what she was about to do building, again. She heard the coat cupboard open and shut, the sound of him leaving his shoes by the wall.

She set her tea aside and stood up, letting him engulf her in a hug. He kept holding her tight as he kissed her temple.

"How are you doing?"

"I'm good."

He let go of her and held her at arm's length. "Ben upstairs?"

"Yeah. Do you want a cup of tea?"

He shook his head and pulled her close again, kissed her forehead. "I'm good to go. Are you?"

She nodded. "I'll follow you."

The first thing she noticed about Ben's bedroom was the chair- a high backed wing chair, worn but in good repair, with a large throw arranged over the edge of it. She instinctively wanted to curl up in it, wrap herself up, and she realized Ben had set it there for her. It didn't go with the rest of the room. This was a room for sleeping, only, and her heart warmed as she turned towards it happily, only seeing Ben as a pale stripe against the dark gray bedspread as she settled in.

"You're not usually so ready for me. Are you showing off for Shannon?" Tom was standing by the side of the bed, his hands in his pockets as he looked down at Ben's prone form. "You can answer."

Shannon allowed herself to look, then, staring blatantly, happy that Ben couldn't see her, his face turned towards Tom.

"A little."

He was one pale line, well formed, but with a layer of softness that Tom didn't often have, and smooth, far smoother than Tom. The hair on his body was so pale as to be translucent, just a soft fuzz around the edges. The curve of his lower spine and the graceful curve of his hips and arse practically begged to be touched, to be traced with the back of the hand or pressed into, to see how soft he was, really, to see where the layer of muscle she knew had to be there began and where his softness ended. She looked up at Tom, wondered how he could stand there so calmly, hands in pockets.

"Let's see if you can keep it up." Tom's voice was warm, amused, no hint of the authoritarian she'd feared when he first told her about this side of himself, but under that the confidence that meant so much more than overt posturing would have. _I can afford to be relaxed and amused, because I know I have you well in hand._ Tom smiled down at Ben, truly fond, before turning and going to his wardrobe.

Shannon tightened the throw around her shoulders, wondering what he was going to get, apprehension, not quite anxiety building up in her chest. Ben saw it before she did, the lines of his body tightening just a fraction of an inch, almost invisible, a picture that was already clear shifting into true focus.

When Tom came back towards them she could see it was a bag, firm black cloth, the size of a small day pack. She leaned forward as if that would give her some clue as to what was inside, but even then Tom didn't look at her, focussed on Ben, making her invisible in the room, a true watcher.

Tom sat on the edge of the bed, turned away from her, his profile just visible, the bag out of sight on the floor. He rested his hand between Ben's shoulder blades, just touching, not pressing, hand just sitting on top of his skin. Ben said something to him, low murmur that Shannon couldn't make out, and then was still, even more still than before, when Tom merely shook his head.

Tom angled his hand until just two fingertips were touching Ben's back, traced down his spine once, ending just before the crease began that marked his arse from his back. Tom ran his hand back up Ben's spine, and this time when he pressed down it was harder, his nails dragging against the skin, two thick pink lines left behind, quickly fading.

Shannon kept herself wrapped up, as if she were the one who needed covering. Ben looked vulnerable in the extreme, and she wondered if that was what she'd look like, to anyone watching, thought about the sheer width of Tom's arms compared to hers and shivered. Tom caught the quick motion out of the corner of his eye and turned towards her, looking over his shoulder, hand still on Ben's back.

She smiled, to let him know it was alright, settled back in as Tom kept tracing those two lines. She could practically feel it, the way it would feel good at first, just a firm pressure, then a slight scratch, and then a bit more, until finally it was burning, almost itching where the skin was turning pink, but then on the next pass of his hand she'd only want it more, a scratch to relieve the itch he'd left behind in the first place. He changed to running the flat of his palm down Ben's back, kept going as he crossed over on to Ben's arse, then paused, the broadest part of the heel of his hand seated over his cleft, pushing down, Tom's own arse coming up off the bed as he half stood, leaning against the mattress as he pressed. 

Suddenly there was a loud pop, Ben's body sagging on to the bed as Tom slid his hands back up to Ben's shoulders, holding on tight.

"Good?" Tom's voice was just loud enough, the question familiar enough that the tone and volume carried. Ben's response was lost to her, but Tom looked at her as he sat up, and gave her a tiny nod.

"Just had to loosen you up a bit," Tom said, still sitting on the side of the bed. His hands came down to Ben's arse, finally, fingers splaying as he tried to cover the entire thing with his hands, thumbs migrating to the center, hooking in, barely, and pulling him apart as he kept kneading with his fingers. "Or more than a bit."

Ben's shoulders tightened, just a bit, as Tom spread him open, though he didn't make a sound. 

"You know, I need my hands." He loosened his grip, sliding his hands down the curve of Ben's arse to the top of his thighs, pushed insistently. "Up."

Shannon felt as much as saw the pause, more than the natural beat of breath in, breath out before a new move, but something else. Tom waited, perfectly still, while Ben pulled his knees forward and under himself, raising his arse in the air, sighing deeply as he let his spine take on the new, sinuous shape.

Tom stood up, looking down at Ben, stroked a hand up the inside of his thigh, an openly possessive look on his face. Shannon knew how that felt, the oddly invasive feeling of being touched from that angle, the anticipation of what more was to come almost as intense as the touch itself. Tom angled his hand to avoid Ben's cock, tracing up the fold between his pelvis and his leg, hand flattening out again as he was on the underside of his buttock, skirting around Ben's fingers as well. "You hesitate, and you think, you really think, that I might not notice." Tom sighed deeply, letting his hand drop, the first time he'd stopped touching Ben since the scene had started. "You know I do." Tom shifted, pulling his arm back, the sound of his clothes moving disguised by his words. "I always do." The slap landed on the join between Ben's arse and thigh even as Tom was speaking, his voice changing not at all. Ben was silent, the curve of his back straightening out as he moved his hips down, then recovered, his range of movement stymied by his bent back arms, most of his weight resting on his chest and shoulders.

Shannon took a deep breath, realizing then that she had been holding it, rapt, waiting for Tom to continue. He didn't move by rote, but there was a certain rhythm, a broad sense of plan even when each move was unpredictable. She was expecting him to strike Ben again, right over the first spot, then on the other side, evening out the sensation, but he just held still, the moment stretching out around them.

Ben's fingers shifted, just a change in pressure rippling through them, as if he was getting tired, or his hands were cramping up. Tom looked at him as he stilled, again, slapping him as soon as he was still in just the way Shannon had expected. This time some of the tension actually left Ben's spine. He had been waiting for it too, and Shannon wondered if there might come a time when she would be strung out, held down by anticipation more than anything else Tom could give to her.

Tom ran his hands over the light pink marks he'd left. The angle dictated by avoiding Ben's hands was too awkward to get a deep mark to show but it was early, and Ben's fair skin showed everything, the trails on his back still there, though faint. Tom reached up and ran his hand over Ben's scapula, thumb digging into the muscle for a moment before brushing up over the side of his face where it was turned, then back down to his neck, rubbing him as he reached back to Ben's nearer wrist, hooked a finger around it and tugged, Ben lowering his arms slowly, careful, this time, instead of resistant.

"Turn your head," Tom said. Ben folded his arms up under his chest, pushing himself up slightly as he turned, Tom's hands guiding him, sweeping his hair away from his forehead as he settled down again. The side of his face was pink from lying against the sheets. He blinked slowly a few times as he looked up, and Shannon wondered if his vision had gone blurry from having his face pressed down like that. When he looked at her it was without any particular acknowledgement, no obvious pleasure or shame in having her there. As he went still, settled into his new position, Tom rested a hand between his shoulder blades and looked up at Shannon. It was almost the same neutral look, but not quite. They were in this scene for each other, and any reassurance or presence of any kind she was going to get, was going to come from Tom.

"Is your neck ok?" Tom spoke softly. Ben nodded even as Tom was rubbing the back of his neck. "Good. Hold yourself open again. I don't feel like getting my hands dirty."

Ben was already reaching back when his eyes fluttered shut on that last word, fingers digging into his own flesh once more. Shannon had nearly gasped, at the word itself and the way Tom's voice wrapped around it, dismissive and cool. He'd only ever gone to great lengths to reassure her that she had nothing to fear on that account, and now here he was telling Ben just the opposite. When she looked up at Tom, almost afraid of what she'd find written on his face, he caught her eye, held her gaze for a moment before he looked away, crouching by the side of the bed to get the bag. It wasn't the look she'd been hoping for, not the wink or smile, and she wondered if he had really meant it when he was talking to Ben, or if he was more sincere in his gentle persuasions of her.

Tom sat on the edge of the bed again, Ben's face turned away from him, eyes still closed. Shannon could hear the sound of a plastic packet being opened, the crinkle when he crumpled it and threw it away. Ben heard it too, and from the shift in his body he knew what it meant better than she did. Ben opened his eyes, looking out over the surface of the bedspread.

Tom held the opened condom in one hand while he set the toy he'd retrieved from the bag on Ben's lower back, letting him feel the weight of the silicone, the length of it against his back. Tom set the base of the plug into the space between Ben's grasping thumb and index finger, pushing down as he rolled the condom on to it, hard enough that Ben had to tighten his grip.

Tom was careless with the lube, or appeared to be, letting it dribble down the sides of the flaring shape, dripping onto Ben's skin and settling against the side of his nearest finger. Tom stopped, then, set the lube aside and rubbed the excess against Ben's skin.

The plug was elegant, Shannon decided, all symmetry and long tapered shape, but the slenderness of it served only to conceal how long it truly was. Tom didn't even seem all that close to Ben as he pressed the tip against Ben's hole, waiting, patient. Ben's only response was to let his jaw drop open, breathing through his mouth, the sound soft but nearly tangible in the quiet room.

"You know which one this is, Ben." Tom moved the tip in tiny circles, drawing on him. "It can be easy if you let it."

Tom leaned towards him, his arm still bent at the same angle as before, letting the weight of his body move the plug into Ben. Ben pushed back, then, shoulders tightening as he pushed against the mattress. Tom sighed, satisfied, pushing against the flat base, his hand tapering to just the point of his fingers all held close together, letting the slender wedge of silicone settle tight against Ben's body.

"Let go." Tom put his hands soft and flat over Ben's fingers, grasped his hands for a moment, squeezing gently before letting Ben put them on the bed, taking the pressure off his neck and shoulders. Shannon flexed her own fingers in sympathy, cramped from simply holding on to the edge of the blanket. 

It took Ben a moment to settle, arms folded under his head now, arse still in the air. With the toy pushed fully inside it barely showed, apparent only in the care with which he moved. Shannon thought about its length, about how it fit into Tom's hand, but only just, and shivered.

"I know you want more, but let's just see if we can make this do for now." Tom grabbed Ben's arse in both his hands, squeezed down hard, his nails turning white as he pressed, tiny half circle marks left in Ben's skin. Tom pushed his cheeks together, tight, then let go, slapping him hard with both hands at once.

"It would be torment for you if I didn't use anything else," Tom said, sounding truly amused. He ran his hand over Ben's lower back, walked his fingers up his spine. "How wound up would you even be?" He held onto the back of Ben's neck as Ben closed his eyes, refusing to answer. "It wouldn't be pretty, I know that much." He let go, letting his fingers linger over the nape of Ben's neck, as if he were sorry to have to take his hands away, and reached into the bag.

Shannon felt a sharp pain in the side of her thumb, jumped, then realized she'd been chewing on the side of it. She took her hand away from her mouth, curled up tighter under the throw, and watched as Tom knelt behind Ben, reaching around his head to press something down on to the sheets next to his face. Shannon had to crane her neck to see it, but she saw it the same moment Ben did.

Ben smiled when he saw the wide flat belt, curled around Tom's hand, angling his head back to look up at him.

"Thought you'd like that," Tom said as he straightened back up, unwinding the belt and folding it in half, the ends held in one hand. He took the slack up in his other hand and straightened it out quickly, snapping it, making both Ben and Shannon jump, though Ben's smile didn't fade. 

Tom snapped it twice more as he moved back on his knees. Shannon watched him move, torso twisting as he maneuvered himself, shoulders broad and open even though he held the belt in both hands. She had to smile to herself as she realized that he was the only person she'd ever met who could swagger while on his knees. When he caught her eye, still adjusting the belt in his hands, he smiled, lifting his chin as he nodded at her.

"You're ok."

"Yeah, I'm good."

His smile only broadened as he shook his head fondly, turning back to Ben, and she realized it hadn't been a question. More than his reassurance, she had his certainty, and it settled over her like a comfortable heavy cloak.

The sound of the belt hitting Ben's skin had a crack to it, though less sharp than the leather against leather sound of Tom snapping it in his hands. He covered the back of Ben's thighs with lighter slaps, the pink color still blossoming against his skin as Tom worked his way up to the softer curve of his arse, arm moving more vehemently there. Ben only flinched when the belt was just at the join of his arse and thighs, worried about Tom catching his sac with the edge of the belt, she supposed, though he didn't actually move away.

The belt seemed subtly different from other implements Tom had used on her, though when he'd mentioned that one in particular she'd demurred, scared of that out of all things. Now, here, it didn't seem so different, a little more flexible, its length adjusted every few strokes by Tom moving it in his hand.

She couldn't help but think about the way the thud would travel through her bones, settling in her pussy, the heat from the sting following a moment later, fullness ebbing and surging with each pause and strike until she was nearly wild, begging to be fucked. She watched Ben writhe minutely, wondered where the sensation was settling for him, if it was in his cock or if it was deeper inside, all the places touched and nearly touched by the plug. 

The steady slap was hypnotizing. She felt like she was melting into the chair, so totally relaxed, the sound of the belt and Tom's breath (steady, but louder than usual) bringing back the last time he'd worked her over with his hands. She thought of what it would be like to have that while she had something in her cunt, something smooth and thick to squeeze and push against, to counteract and outline the relentless swelling pressure and craving he always made her feel in those moments, and whimpered out loud as she tucked her hand between her legs, side of her thumb pressed tight against the seam in her jeans. She felt ridiculously ready for something that was not going to happen, so wet that she felt cool along her outer lips, the seam of her jeans pressed tight up against her clit only a tiny relief. Tom looked over at her, raised his eyebrows as he slid his hand suggestively down his abdomen, stroking over his own covered erection. She shook her head, only leaning into her hand for comfort, not grinding against it. He shrugged, turned back to Ben as he unfolded the belt, wrapping the buckle end around his hand, leaving a longer looser end.

He smacked it against the fullest curve of Ben's arse, once per side, louder and sharper than when it was folded. Ben jumped and settled after each strike, waiting. For the first time since the beginning he looked at Shannon, holding her gaze, eyes wide open but bright.

Tom pushed down on Ben's arse, tugging on one thigh, urging him to lie flat. 

"Now roll over."

Ben's eyebrows drew together as he concentrated, gathering himself before rolling. Shannon could imagine it, the feeling of having to move carefully, knowing that Tom wouldn't tell him to do anything dangerous and yet apprehensive about moving with the plug still so deep inside. He laid himself on his back with a minimum of shifting about, looking up at Tom.

The belt set aside, Tom was free to reach down and grasp Ben's cock, hard but still mostly sheathed, running his hand up the shaft to pinch his foreskin over the head, squeezing out the slick that had collected there. Tom gathered it up on his fingers and touched them to the wet shining patch on Ben's abdomen, where he'd been lying on his cock. "You get so fucking wet Ben, I swear, you're like a girl." He reached down and pulled on the plug, letting it settle against the point of resistance where Ben's ass was grasping it, pulling slowly, twisting his hand as he pulled it free. Ben sighed, impossible to tell if from relief or disappointment to have it gone.

She waited for the jealousy to start when Tom took his jeans off, waited for the feeling of wrong to settle over her at the thought that someone else would see him like this, would touch him, but when he turned to Ben, only his soft blue t-shirt covering him, cock standing straight out in front of him, it still wasn't there. She leaned harder against her hand, familiar leap of want in her chest at seeing Tom like this, but nothing more.

He moved on to the bed easily, gracefully settling with one knee to either side of Ben's head, calves brushing against Ben's shoulders. He tapped the exposed shining head of his cock against Ben's mouth and Ben opened up immediately, tongue licking circles around him.

"Good boy." Tom held on to the headboard for balance with one hand as he let his cock slip deeper into Ben's mouth, sliding in slowly, then pulling back, moving too slowly to be fucking his mouth but still advancing past the point of comfort. His sac was still loose and soft, and when it brushed against Ben's chin he twisted his hips, letting it drag across Ben's face as much as he could, making sure Ben knew exactly what position he was in.

"Enough." Tom slid back, easing his way down Ben's body, letting Ben lift his arms up one by one to make himself narrow enough for Tom to keep a knee to either side of him. Tom reached over to the bag on the floor, body bending in a broad arc, and sat up with a condom and the lube in his hand. He nudged Ben's legs apart one knee at a time and settled in, rolling the condom on as he looked down.

"Get your knees up." 

Ben bent his legs, then grasped himself behind each knee, waiting.

"Yeah, pull them up."

Shannon could see that he was still slick, a layer of lube covering his ass. Tom grasped himself by the base of his shaft and ran the head of his cock up and down Ben's crack, pausing over his hole, pushing in just a bit. He leaned back and covered his palm with lube, spread it over himself as Ben waited.

"I know you could take it, but we don't want to scare Shannon, do we?" Tom held on to Ben's thigh, hand just below Ben's own, as he lined himself up, his other hand grasping Ben's other thigh as he pushed in, faster than he had with the plug.

Ben was visibly trying to relax, high pitched quick murmurs escaping, head thrown back even as he held himself open. In one steady thrust Tom was inside him, hips pressing hard against Ben's spread ass, his back a deep curve as he held himself there. 

Shannon's own breath was as loud as the two of theirs, as loud as Ben's pants and Tom's more restrained but deeper respiration. She ached inside, for Ben, for herself, thinking of the careful way Tom worked his way into her, never in less than three tries to bottom out in her cunt, the way he kept gently adjusting to her. Ben hadn't had any such consideration, though he seemed to take it well. She leaned into her thumb, reached back with her fingers, pressing up against her aching spot, nothing like penetration but at least a pressure against her swollen opening.

Tom didn't say anything to Ben yet a conversation seemed to pass between them, as one moment Tom was still and then next he was pulling his hips back, fast, snapping them back even faster. He held himself there, tight again, looking down at Ben, waiting for something that must have passed between them, something that Shannon missed.

"Yes." Tom spoke, and it was the answer to a question she hadn't heard.

Tom moved his hands down to grasp Ben's hips, holding him close, snapping his hips back and forth so fast that the mere sight of it knocked the breath out of her chest, and she found herself gasping, almost as if she and Ben were sharing the same air. Tom's knees spread apart on the bed, moving him more in line with Ben's body, his back and shoulders bending back. Ben's eyes were open, but only just, slitted, his face lax even as his chest was heaving, trying to keep up with the demands he was making on his own body. His cock was soft against his stomach, biceps tight as he held his thighs up.

He turned his face towards Shannon, eyes closing, when he started whimpering, short high pitched sounds that seemed to be shaken from him with every thrust, his entire body trembling as they got faster, the muscles over his stomach twitching as he shook. Shannon leaned forward, her own abdomen twitching in sympathy as well as excitement, trying to figure out what was going on. He looked for all the world like he was coming, but his cock was still soft.

Tom paused though, running his hands up and down the backs of Ben's thighs even as he stayed tight within him. When he pulled out he was slow, careful, seemingly nothing like how he had been.

"Roll over," Tom said, helping guide Ben's legs down and together, though Ben rolled over on his own power, reaching under himself to adjust his cock.

Tom straddled his hips this time, kept his thighs tight together, held on to Ben's hips as he pushed in, moving down towards the mattress as well as up, towards Ben's head, his own arms flexing as he pulled Ben closer each time, Ben's hips coming up off the mattress, then sinking down again, his face hidden now in the sheets.

Shannon abandoned the idea of pressing against her hand for relief, so far from enough that it was only maddening, now, just held on to the arms of the chair and leaned forward, her thighs pressed together. Tom looked down at the middle of Ben's spine, no attention for anything else in the room other than bringing Ben up to himself every time he moved forward, magnifying the force of his body inside of Ben's. She hurt inside, thinking of the soft slick space being moved like this, too many different directions at once, but wanting, too, to know what that was like, to see if she could take it as Ben was. She remembered, all at once, that Ben, for all that he was lost in the sensation, was still Ben, could shut this down with a syllable if he wanted to, and the realization eased her and heated her all at once.

Tom leaned forward, cloth covered stomach covering Ben's pink ass, and wrapped his arms around Ben's waist, pulling up until Ben was bent forward. Tom groped into that dark space, and then Ben was throwing his head back, face revealed again as Tom jerked him.

Ben kept his eyes wide open, mouth slack, hands digging into the mattress as he tried, incredibly, to push himself back harder on Tom's cock.

"Fuck, Ben, fuck," Tom was near incoherence as he let his forehead touch Ben's back. He gathered himself, wrapped his arms around Ben's chest, and knelt back, dragging Ben with him, Ben scrambling to get his limbs arranged, hands hanging on to Tom's forearm, knees bent so he was kneeling over Tom's folded legs.

Tom tried to hold on to him with one arm and stroke his cock with his other hand, but the motion of the mattress beneath them kept throwing him off, his eyebrows gathering in frustration.

"Get on the floor." He pushed Ben away. Ben crawled forward carefully, Tom holding still, letting himself fall out of Ben's ass naturally as Ben leaned away from him.

Ben stood at the side of the bed looking lost, his cock half hard, waiting as Tom stood next to him.

"Hold on to the foot board." Tom spared a look for Shannon as Ben moved gingerly to do as he was told, planting his feet on the wooden floor, long toes pressing down as he grasped the railing, bending forward. 

Tom grasped his hips and pulled Ben back, until he was bent at a right angle, his arms straining to hold on to the bed, braced in front of himself. Tom kept looking at her as he lined himself up, both hands on Ben's hips now, the sound of their bodies coming together more of a thud than a slap, reverberating through the room. Ben's teeth were gritted as he hung on, knees locked, elbows just cocked enough that he wouldn't jam them as Tom thrusted into him.

Shannon let her gaze roam over the both of them, too fixed for too long at where they were joined. Ben's back was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, Tom looking drier, though the lines of muscle in the side of his arse stood out in a way that made her think he was probably damp too. Ben's right hand kept twitching, as if he was thinking of taking it off the railing to reach back to his cock, then thought better of it with the next strong thrust, but his cock stayed half-hard, not quite swaying in front of him.

Tom changed his hold on Ben, looping one arm around his hips, leaning forward, Ben gasping at the change in the angle, then again when Tom finally took his cock in hand, started pulling on him in the same rhythm that he was fucking him, fingers grasping him just under the head, rubbing there more than stroking him. Ben let his head fall forward, chin touching his chest as he grew firm in Tom's hand, rising up on his toes, arms shaking.

"Please, can I?" the sheer desperation in his voice tightened every hot sharp sensation inside her, scared that Tom would say no, totally certain that if she were in Ben's place there would be nothing she could do to stop an orgasm if it were approaching.

"Do it." Tom kept his hand moving at the same pace but his hips moved more sporadically, faster but shallower, familiar soft low grunting breath coming from his throat.

Ben's breathing, already fast and deep, changed to a shuddering shaking gasp, a single sharp shout at the beginning of one breath as he spilled over Tom's hand.

Tom angled his hand to catch the come, then wiped his hand on Ben's stomach, holding still, draped over Ben's back for a moment before pulling him up into a tight embrace, holding them both steady as Ben took his hands off the bed rail. Ben let Tom take his weight, stiffening only when Tom took two quick steps backwards to balance himself.

"It's alright, I've got you."

Ben nodded, then tilted his head backwards, leaning it against Tom's shoulder. 

Shannon relaxed in the chair while her breath got back to normal, arranged the throw that had become twisted more neatly over herself.

"Got to move," Tom said softly. Ben nodded, and then, after a pause, stood straight again, hands gently holding the rail now instead of grasping on tight. Tom eased himself out, stripped off the condom and tied it off, holding it between two of his fingers as he put his other arm around Ben's waist.

Ben bent his head down close to Tom, and the murmur of their voices was clear, though she couldn't hear what they said. Tom leaned back to look at her. 

"Back in a moment, Shazza."

"Ok."

They walked to Ben's en suite, shutting the door behind them. Ben had been leaning on Tom, and for all that they were naked or nearly so they looked like a couple of mates leaving a rugby pitch, Ben being the injured one. She had to laugh softly at the thought.

Ben was walking more steadily when they returned, though as soon as Tom smoothed out the bed linens he threw himself face down on the sheets, one leg hitched up to ease the strain on his back. Tom had put on a pair of flannel sleep bottoms, and sat next to Ben's pale, prone form. He took a pot of thick cream out of the bedside table. It was almost a paste, softening as it warmed against Ben's skin, though Tom still had to work to rub it in. Ben's eyes were closed but he hummed in appreciation once the larger welts were covered. 

Tom rubbed the excess up and down Ben's spine, though there were no marks there. "Do you need to sleep?"

"I'd like to."

Tom nodded. "Do you want pants?"

Ben yawned hugely. "Just something soft."

Tom retrieved another pair of sleep bottoms, these a dark tartan, and helped Ben shimmy into them, then pulled the covers up over his shoulders.

Ben turned his face back and forth as he got comfortable, wound up looking at Shannon. "Alright Shazza?"

"I'm good." 

Tom touched Ben's forehead and kissed the edge of his hairline. "I'll make sure of it," he said to Ben. "Go ahead and sleep." Ben's eyes closed, and he seemed to sink into sleep almost immediately.

Tom sat on the edge of the bed nearer the chair, facing Shannon but not reaching out to her just yet.

"What did you think?"

She looked over at Ben. "Should we go somewhere else?"

Tom shook his head. "He's out. Unless you want to?"

She tried to shrug, but it turned into a full body shiver. Tom reached forward and gently pulled the throw off her shoulders and arms, revealing her forearms covered in goose flesh, her hands still shaking minutely for a few seconds after the shiver was over.

"Are you really alright?"

"I really am. It's just adrenaline, or something." She pushed the throw the rest of the way off, suddenly too warm.

Tom reached out to the waistband of her jeans, tugged on it, the button and zip still firmly done. "You really didn't."

"That wasn't part of the deal," she pointed out. "I was only here to watch."

His hands running down her arms did little to smooth out the raised hairs there. "What do you need?"

She felt frozen by the wide open nature of the question. There was too much encompassed in that word, and he seemed to realize it, narrowing down his question.

"Do you want to go downstairs and talk about this?"

She considered it. "I will want to talk about it, but not right now." She captured his hands as he ran them down her arms again, and he ran his thumb over the mark the seam of her jeans had left against the side of her thumb.

"Do you need to get off? With me, or without me?"

"I got plenty worked up, but no. I think what I want right now more than anything is a nap."

He nodded, standing up, pulling her with him so he could wrap her up in a tight hug. "I'm sure Ben would loan you some jammies so you don't have to sleep in your jeans."

"Good, thanks."

"There's the guest room across the landing," Tom said as he opened Ben's chest of drawers.

"She can stay here." Ben spoke without opening his eyes, but his words were clear. "I know you'll just be running back and forth checking on us." He snuggled deeper under the blanket. "Smother hen."

Shannon chuckled, imagining it the way Ben had said, Tom unable to leave either of them for very long.

"Yeah, alright." She held her hand out for the soft grey trousers Tom was handing her. "I'll be right back."

In the washroom she used a cup from a shelf that looked clean to take a drink, wondered for a moment if that was alright. _Hope you don't mind, I used your spare water cup. A little personal, isn't it? Well, I did just watch you get vigorously fucked by my boyfriend. By our boyfriend._ She smirked at her own wit, and drank another cup before she set it carefully at the side of the sink.

Luckily some of the congested tight hot feeling in her pelvis was relieved with a wee, and she felt better after cleaning herself off and putting on soft trousers. She washed her hands, splashed some water on her face, and took a deep breath before she went back into the room, feeling somehow like a changed person, now, from the Shannon who had walked to Ben's house that afternoon.

Tom was sitting in the wing chair when she walked in but stood up as she came round to the side of the bed, pulling back the covers for her. Ben was curled up facing the chair, so she arranged herself to be facing it as well, lying on her side. Tom tucked the blanket around her shoulders and kissed her cheek as she closed her eyes.

Sleep found her quickly, her eyes fluttering open a few times, opening just enough to see that Tom was still there, reading a book and looking at her when she looked up at him. She woke slowly and for good when she felt Ben stirring behind her, when he looped his arm around her waist, tucking himself close around her back. He was soft and warm, and she let him, looking up at Tom to make sure. She didn't want him to wake to find that he'd snuggled up to her thinking she was Tom, but he merely looked at Ben in a way that made her think he was awake too.

She was still sleepy, and comfortable. She set her hand over Ben's and he wiggled his fingers at her, definitely awake, and definitely aware that she was Shannon and not Tom.

Seeing that they were both awake, Tom stood and stretched, walked to the washroom and shut the door.

"Does he always do that?" Shannon asked softly.

"Do what?" Ben asked.

"Watch you like that?"

Ben adjusted himself so that his head was a little higher than hers, so he wasn't speaking directly to the back of her head. "Not always while I'm sleeping, but yeah, he always sticks around. Doesn't he do that for you?"

Shannon thought about it for a moment. It had always seemed natural, but he did make a point of not leaving her alone in the minutes and even hours after a scene. "Yeah, he does." She thought of the obvious effort, sheer expenditure of energy and restraint, that she'd seen him put into his scene with Ben, and turned to him suddenly, twisting around in his arms. He kept his arm looped around her shoulders now, pulling her in.

"I'm often tired, after," she admitted.

"Naturally. Me too."

"And he always watches over us," she said, trying to work towards what her question was, a vague sense of worry about him becoming exhausted.

"Yes."

"Who is going to watch out for him?"

Ben's smile was so immediate and broad it seemed to warm her from the inside out, chasing away the cold apprehension that had settled in her chest. "We do." He said it like it was the simplest thing in the world, as if he and Shannon had been a "we" and an "us" forever. He kissed her forehead and wrapped his other arm around her, hand resting on the back of her neck. "You'll see." He took a deep breath and was still, with Shannon held to his chest. She decided it was a fine place to be and let herself drift, warm and comfortable.


	2. Chapter 2

"I’m going to be pretty busy with a show next week." She sat on the edge of the bed and watched Tom pull off his shirt, admiring the easy twist and bend of his spine as he reached for his tee-shirt.

"Yeah? Here in London?" He turned around as he tied the string on his pyjama pants.

"No. Digbeth, in Birmingham. Eastside Projects is putting on a series of events and shows in the main space but also in cafes and a bookstore, and a children’s library too."

"Sounds cool." He slipped his arm around her shoulders as he walked past, paused and kissed the top of her head on his way to the kitchen.

"It's going to be coordinated with music and some theater, mostly outside." She followed him, sliding along on her wool socks. 

"You don't sound entirely thrilled." Tom pulled down two mugs from the top of the cabinet next to the stove.

"I know it sounds a bit selfish but I sort of wish I hadn’t said yes when they asked me to help set up the week before. It’s so many moving pieces. The Eastside Projects part, where my paintings will be, is going to be simple enough, but the rest of it has a lot to do with art in public spaces, the shops and the library, and there’s a local craft exhibition in a brewery."

"I thought you loved all that."

"I do, I just, I don't know. I don't feel right turning down work. It won't be difficult, and it won't take long." She smiled sheepishly as the kettle rumbled. "And I've always had a soft spot for Birmingham.” 

Tom laughed. "You know they brought you on to elevate their, show, festival, whatever it is, right?" He opened the cupboard that held the tea and looked over his shoulder.

She pointed to the very topmost corner, angling her hand so he'd know exactly which of the boxes and tins she meant. "I don't think so, I mean, they probably picked me because it's like the shows I used to set up outside of Boston."

Tom shook his head. "You don't give yourself enough credit." He pulled down the tin that she had meant, pleased when she nodded at him.

"I haven't got cache," she protested.

"We'll see. Come home after and show me the materials. You'll be credited prominently."

"Forfeit?"

Tom snorted and shook his head. "Not even going to try. I'll win."

She scowled at him. "Not fair. Why won't you play?"

Tom prepared their drinks and swept the errant tea leaves off the worktop, brushed them into the sink. "Because any forfeit I can think of, you'd do just for the asking."

"Sure, make me sound like a slut." When he walked over with her mug she made no move to take it from him.

"I'd never call you a slut," he said, "unless you asked me to."

She smirked at him. "Not likely." She walked out to the living area, letting him carry the mugs, set down coasters for him on the coffee table. She settled on the sofa and thought about how different it was from the night before, the two of them having a quiet night in.

"Well, you let me know." Tom shifted as she curled up on the cushion next to him, not quite leaning on him yet.

"Will do." She held her mug, almost too hot, still, and tried to think of how to begin telling him what she'd been thinking about all day. Tom kept her from having to start, though, his hand grasping her ankle and holding on, thumb rubbing against the thick wool of her sock.

“Are you going to stay up there for the duration?”

She nodded. “It’s too far a commute, even with the train. I’ll stay with Tamzin. She lives near the Eastside Project. We’ve worked together before and she’s stayed with me in London.”

“And it’s a place you feel safe staying?”

She tilted her head. “Of course, I wouldn’t stay there otherwise.”

“I’ve stayed in my share of dodgy places in the name of economy.” He worked his fingers under the cuff of her sock, rubbing her ankle.

“I have too, I suppose, but I’m past all that now, thankfully.”

"So how were you today, other than planning whirlwind trips to Brum?"

She set her mug down and leaned into him, shifting her feet away from him but getting his arm around the top of her shoulders instead. "Fine." It was the truth. She had been fine. Just because she couldn't stop thinking about the day before-- and a certain part, really-- didn't mean she wasn't fine. She'd found herself caught up in thoughts of Ben's face near hers when he'd turned to her under their shared blanket, and his arms around her, platonic and yet so decidedly not, considering what she'd just watched. She and Tom had left late, in the middle of the night, really, Shannon barely waking up for the ride home, simply sliding into bed once she was home. Ben had kissed her goodnight, innocent enough, dry press of his mouth against hers, only it was hard to kiss someone platonically when they were both lying down, face to face. It was that thought that warmed her, the thought that she wanted to do it again, and wanted a lot more besides. She wanted to kiss him a lot, and it seemed a childish thing to say. It might have been easier, she reflected, if she just wanted to fuck him. There was a plan in place for that, really. What To Do if Shannon Wants to Fuck Someone Who Isn't Tom: Do it, or don't do it, but either way Tell Tom. There was no outline for what if that person was also Tom's to begin with.

"Only fine?" Tom rubbed his hand up the back of her neck, grasped the braid there and wrapped it around his hand, tugging evenly, all the tension across her scalp fading in that moment.

"That shouldn't feel so good," she said, leaning against him.

"Makes me wish I had long hair." He held her tight against his chest with his hand wrapped in her braid, and it felt safe and secure, rather than the picture of control he would have made had anyone been looking.

"You could," she pointed out.

"Mmm. No."

She sighed, wanting to tell him everything, to unburden herself, but she wasn't even sure of what to say. _I have a crush on your boyfriend_ didn't seem quite adequate, or accurate either. It was something other than a crush, more like an idea and a hint of a promise of the way things could potentially be, if everything went according to some invisible plan.

"How's Ben?" The question was out of her mouth before she could even think of reconsidering, and she felt like she had given herself away more than if she had mentioned how many times she’d thought about his simple kiss or the short conversation they'd had out of Tom's earshot. Ben had said that they were supposed to look out for Tom, but confessing that she was about to make things even more complicated didn't seem entirely caring, especially within the first twenty-four hours of having been involved with them in that way. Maybe it was brought on by proximity and excitement. Lust, she thought, calling it for what it was. It might fade.

"He's good." Tom sounded amused. "He wanted me to make sure you were ok."

Shannon silently cursed her heart for the way it leapt at that.

"Why would Ben ask if I were ok?"

He loosened his hand from her hair, smoothed his hand down the back of her neck before letting it rest there. "You really don't know?"

She shrugged. "It's only polite, I suppose." She turned her face into Tom's shirt as she laughed softly. "I don't think Emily Post ever covered that eventuality, but it seems like you’d call or send a note after an evening like that."

Tom squeezed her neck. "Maybe some of that. But if you’d like I can tell you what he told me, about why he was worried."

Shannon paused for a moment. What if Ben had said that he was afraid Shannon had a crush on him, what if he was worried about her having her feelings hurt when he didn't want to do it again? "Tell me." 

Tom was silent for long enough that she wondered if he'd heard her. She tilted her head back only to find that he was already looking down at her, and she craned her head up for a kiss.

Tom shifted so she was held against his side, afterwards, not pressed into his chest, still held close but not hiding. "He was worried that in retrospect you might be disturbed by how rough I was with him."

It was so far from what she'd been expecting that she just sat with that thought in silence for a moment. "He knows that I play with you, right?" It was a rhetorical question. Ben had told her that she could safeword out of the whole thing, knew exactly what she had asked Tom for when she'd asked to watch them together. "I mean, that was sort of the point."

"Was it?" Tom bumped his nose and lips against her forehead, urging her to lean back so he could look at her. "I thought the point was that you wanted to."

"I did want to, but I didn't want to just watch you having sex. I specifically wanted to see what it was like to watch you dominating Ben."

Tom rubbed the sides of his mouth with his thumb and forefinger for a moment. "Did you want to see Ben submitting to me?"

She sighed. "Yes, obviously. I wanted to see all that."

"Alright then."

She felt oddly like grinding her teeth, but resisted. "So, what did he mean?" She thought about the differences between what she'd seen and what she'd experienced. "You didn't even tie him up."

"No, I didn't, because Ben didn’t want that last night. What he wanted was to get fucked, as hard and as rough as I deemed responsible. And he knows that isn't part of what we do."

"So, you've told him about us?" It shouldn't have bothered her, she thought. Tom was allowed to talk to Ben about anything, anything at all, but the thought of being discussed left her feeling cold.

"Only in the same broad terms that I'm telling you about him, right now. Though, having watched, I suppose that boat has sailed."

She nodded, feeling the hypocrisy, but unable to really let it go. "Ok. So he was worried that I'd think you were too rough with him?"

"Particularly while fucking him."

She thought about Ben's gritted teeth, the way his knuckles went white against the bedrails when Tom was standing behind him. "Because you've hurt me _while_ fucking me, but not _by_ fucking me."

"Exactly."

Shannon reached out for her mug and drank some of the cooling tea. "I didn't worry, because it was you." There was an imperfection in the glaze on the handle of the mug and she pressed her thumb nail into it. As always, it didn't crack. "And he seemed fine. Better than fine."

"He was worried that you'd think to compare yourself to him, and wonder if I wanted to do the same to you."

She shook her head. "No more than I wondered why you weren't tying him up, which is to say, not at all." She drained the last of the tea and set the mug back on the coffee table.

"He underestimated you, then." Tom looped his arms around her waist and gently pulled her backwards as he leaned towards the arm of the sofa, letting her lie against him as she brought her legs up on to the cushions.

"I'll be sure to give him hell for that later." She closed her eyes, not sleeping, but happy just to rest.

"Did anything bother you?"

She searched her mind. "Nothing, really. I was surprised by one thing."

"Oh? The belt?" He ran his hand down the outside of her arm until he found her hand, held on to it with his fingers wrapped around her wrist.

"No, the fact that when he was sucking you I didn't feel jealous. I just didn't. I thought I would, I was expecting it, and then when you were doing that all I was thinking was oh right, you like that? Yeah, I like that too."

"And really, nothing else?" 

"Just that I can't stop thinking about him." She felt her voice changing almost immediately, rougher, almost cracking, the sound of imminent tears if she wasn't careful. The fact that it was Tom with her meant that she didn't have to be careful, really, and they threatened to burst forth.

"Yeah? How so?" Tom sounded gently curious.

She flipped herself over so she was half facing the back of the sofa, her head tucked almost against his armpit. "I liked him already, of course. He's a good mate. And then this, and I keep thinking about kissing him, and how I want to do it again."

"You want to watch us again, or you want to kiss him again?" Tom was rubbing his hand up and down her back, not forcing her to roll over, not even coaxing her to look at him.

"Both, and I keep thinking that next time I want to touch him. Or I want him to touch me, and I don't know. It's just a crush, it sort of came out of nowhere. I'm sorry."

"Why would you be sorry? You're allowed to have crushes on anyone you want. You're allowed more than that. Remember?"

She sighed and it shuddered out of her, as if she'd already been crying, though that had been held at bay. "But this is Ben. He's yours."

"He's his own." He said it firmly, but without anger. "He's allowed all that as well."

"A little awkward, though, I mean, if he doesn't want to see me again, like that. I'd still have to see him, through you, and you'd still be with the both of us."

"Stop thinking so far ahead. You haven't even spoken to him since last night and you've already got him rejecting you in your head." He brushed the hair off her forehead and kissed her.

"What do I even do?"

"The same thing you do when you think you might fancy anyone." Tom shifted them around so she was lying against his chest.

She rested her head over his heart and listened to the steady beat for a few moments. "So I should accost him in an alleyway and take him to a whole foods co-op?"

Tom laughed. "That's your usual? I thought I was special."

"You are." It slipped out, too honest to take back, but she couldn't acknowledge it, just pressed on. "I don't do flirting. I've never understood the whole culture and ritual of dating. The only people I ever dated had been friends or friends of friends. And then you." 

"So that night, if you had said, I never do this," Tom prompted.

"I would have actually meant it."

He held the back of her neck. "Does it make me ridiculous to be flattered?"

"Not at all." She closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth and gentle pressure of his hand, tension seeping out of her neck that she hadn't even realized was there.

"Ben's a friend. And a friend of a friend."

She considered that, staring down at the surface of his shirt. She drew a curved line in the subtle weft of the cotton, then erased it with her thumb. "If things don't go well, though."

“We’re all adults, and we’ve been through worse before, I’d say.”

Shannon nodded. “I wonder why he didn’t just ask me though. We are friends.”

Tom continued to rub her back. “If you’d been worried about him, who would you have talked to first?”

She tried to imagine it, but couldn’t deny the truth. “If it was about last night, I would have asked you how he was doing.”

“Just so. And I told him I was sure you were fine, but that I’d check in with you.”

"I should tell him myself then." She sat up, twisting as she stretched. 

"You can use my phone," Tom said.

She paused. "I think I’ll just text him myself."

"Alright." 

She got her phone off the worktop in the kitchen where it had been charging, turned it over in her hand while she thought about how to start. No use in sending a long text if he wasn't even around, she reasoned. 

_Hi Ben. It's Shannon._

She stayed in the kitchen while she waited for a reply. She poured herself a glass of water, feeling strangely hot all over, her heart fluttering in her chest.

The response was almost immediate. 

_Shannon hi!_ She set her glass down and put her cooled hand on the back of her neck, trying to calm the all over warm faint feeling. _Good timing. I'm on supper break. How are you?_

 _I'm fine. Had a really productive studio day. Lots of pleasant memories from last night._ She sent it before she could second guess herself and delete the last.

 _Similar for me._

She looked towards the living room, wondering if Tom was missing her. Before she could decide, Ben texted her again.

_I've only got a few more minutes. Can I ring you?_

_Yes._

Ben's voice on the phone was as warm and enthusiastic as she would have expected from his text.

"It's good to hear from you." He sounded like he was trying to chew something. "Did Tom tell you I had been asking about you?"

"He did." She felt relieved to have that out in the open already. "He said you were worried that I’d be bothered by how rough he was with you."

"Were you?" He sounded merely curious.

"Not at all. The most striking thing wasn't what you two were doing."

Ben responded immediately. "I know the thing that was the most striking for me. It was lying in bed with you."

Shannon held on to the edge of the worktop, relieved that he had said it first and overwhelmed to hear her own thoughts in his voice. "Same here."

"Can I see you again?" The naked need in his voice surprised her, none of the tentative apprehension she'd heard in her own words when she was talking to Tom.

"Yes. Not tonight though."

"I've got filming again tomorrow evening. Can I see you tomorrow morning?"

"Yes. When? I can go into the studio any time."

"Come over at nine? We can have breakfast together."

She glanced at the clock. It was already nine. "Will you be awake then?"

"Absolutely."

"Then yes. I'll be there." She looked to the living room, wondering if Tom could hear her. "Tom will be working."

"That's fine. We'll all get together again soon." 

"Ok." In the background she could hear the sound of people talking, getting back to work. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

"See you soon. Good night." 

"Night." She hung up and finished her water, then returned to the living room.

Tom had his earbuds in, the living room silent despite the videogame on the television. Max had taken her spot, his head resting on Tom’s thigh. She sat on his other side, giving him room to move his elbows, waited until he looked over at her, pausing the game.

"I’m gone for five minutes," she teased, reaching over to scritch Max’s ruff.

Tom pulled out his earbuds. "Figured it would give you some privacy."

"Thanks. I'm going over to see Ben tomorrow."

"Yeah?" He smiled, quirked up on one side.

"You knew! He told you!"

He rubbed his hand down her back. "I wouldn't pass your words on to him."

She thought about it for a moment. "That's fair."

"I know it is." He pulled her close, softening his teasing. "Are you going to bed?"

She realized she'd had her eyes closed as she leaned against him. She opened them and found herself staring at the paused image of soldiers walking through a dark concrete corridor.

"I'll never understand how you can unwind with this."

"Different strokes baby." He jostled her gently as she let her eyes close again.

"You just want me to go to bed so you can play your game."

"So?"

She gave Max one last pet and stood up reluctantly. "Come tuck me in?"

"I'll be there."

She got herself ready and got into bed, and Tom came in almost immediately, sitting on the edge of the bed as he smoothed the covers over her.

"Have fun tomorrow."

She looked up at him as he stood. "I’m just going over there to talk."

Tom knelt next to the bed. "Have as much fun as you both want." He kissed her, lingering as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"Love you," she said sleepily.

"Love you too. Nothing that happens or doesn't happen tomorrow is going to change that."

She smiled, feeling sleep pulling at her already. "Thanks. Don't stay up too late."

He kissed the top of her head, the last thing she knew before she fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Find us [here](https://cumberhardhiddlesbitch.tumblr.com/) over at tumblr and say hey or ask questions or just look at our pretty, pretty boys.


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